Arts and Leisure
by LondonBound23
Summary: Kurt is an aspiring critic, working his way up in the business slowly by getting coffee and fixing drycleaning, while struggling to extend his parental rights for his daughter on the other side of the country. One morning Rachel drags him to an art exhibit in Brooklyn, and his outlook on life is suddenly turned upside down. AU. Future fic. Extended summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

So, this story is just something that randomly popped into my head while I was visiting New York not too long ago, and I just started writing. As you see in the summary, it will deal with Kurt's job situation, his family rights and his relationship with Blaine. I'm not exactly sure how long it will be, or what will be the exact development in the stories, but I have a vague idea. I think I've written roughly half the story already, so the updates shouldn't be too far between. Thanks for reading!

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"Fuck, Rachel! You have no idea how much I hate you right this instant!" Kurt throws out the words as aggressively as he can manage in his sleep deprived state as his best friend (soon to be former if days like this one becomes the new normal) drags him down another non-descript Brooklyn Street.

"Oh, stop it you big baby! A little culture won't kill you."

"Um, excuse me," Kurt replies indignantly. "Look who you're talking to. I have seen just about every play on Broadway at the moment, I spend what little free time I have reading or frequenting art exhibitions and concerts. I am nothing if not sufficiently cultured."

Instead of responding Rachel just tightens her hold on his hand and continues pulling him along at a rapid pace.

"Also, considering you woke me up at 6am on a Sunday – a Sunday, Rachel! – and the fact that we're in an area that screams unsafe, I'm not quite as convinced as you seem to be that it won't actually kill me."

"And people say I'm the drama queen."

Rachel lets out a sound of triumph as she stops outside a huge brown building filled with what looks like lofts, presses in a few digits on the lock pad and waits for whoever is at the other side to buzz them in. Together they walk the stairs in silence, and Kurt gives himself a pat on the back for forcing himself to go to the gym at least once a week. If he didn't he 'd most likely look like he'd ran a mile after walking those four flights of stairs in the summer heat that is currently making itself known in New York.

As they exit the stairway they reach a hallway with tall ceilings, interspersed with large black doors leading off to what Kurt assumes are lofts. Based on the signs on a lot of them most are used as ateliers by local artists. Kurt assumes that if not for the hour of the day, Rachel's overly chirpy attitude at the prospect and the sweltering heat, he'd be intrigued by being able to see the place of creation for one of America's up and coming artists. At least that's what Rachel had called him when she dragged him out of bed earlier that morning.

As they reach the end of the hall, Rachel turns left and disappears through the door that Kurt sees holds a sign with 'Anderson Art Exhibition'. As Kurt follows her through the door he can see that even with the sparse interior design of the room, the artist, this Anderson guy, has managed to arrange everything in a way that not only is aesthetically pleasing in and of its own, but beautifully presents and accentuates the couple of dozen drawings, photographs and paintings hung around the room.

Looking around Kurt notices the room is bigger than he had thought. As he inspects the area closer he can see that it must have originally been a wall separating two lofts around the middle of the room, mostly torn down to create a larger work space. Almost every part of the room is adorned with works of art, only a small corner is left to its own. There stands a couch and a small coffee table with a selection of finger food and a mug of water.

Feeling fatigued from his limited sleep and a need to petulantly annoy Rachel as revenge for dragging him here, Kurt doesn't even take a second look at the art and heads directly to the couch where he plants himself, taking one of the oatmeal cookies to nibble on as he starts people watching.

The room isn't exactly crowded. Kurt counts that, including him and Rachel, there are ten people in the room. Not bad for the time and location, Kurt muses. Rachel is standing on the far right side of the room observing a photograph of a beautiful ballerina. Next to her is a tall blond woman dressed in an elegant cocktail dress. Kurt stifles a laugh at the lady's slightly bewildered look; Rachel is no doubt talking her ears off about her high school years as a ballet prodigy or something to that effect. Kurt has lost count of how many times he's heard that story and others like it.

A little further down stood what looks to Kurt like a group of friends. He thinks they might be in their late teens, but no longer being one, Kurt finds determining age a lot more difficult than it once had been. The last three people in the room are stood in front of one of the largest pieces in the room.

At this point in his observations, Kurt forgets completely about the reason he started it to begin with. He barely registers the three people looking at him curiously as he moves as if in a trance over to the painting hanging in front of them, staring at it. It is one of the worst pieces of art Kurt has ever seen, yet he feels completely transfixed. The colors are all at their brightest hue, clashing violently with each other. The shapes are thrown together haphazardly with seemingly no consideration of composition or aesthetics. Kurt is shocked by how careless this piece seems compared to the rest. Though, he hasn't really looked at the rest, has he? Doing just that he finally notices what he's missed to begin with; the paintings are all bad in their own way. Some are the same haphazard combination of shapes and colors like the one in front of Kurt, while others are drawings of humans where proportions are all wrong. Even the photograph of the ballerina that Rachel still is studying, Kurt sees now, is clad in rags and could very easily be mistaken for homeless if not for the posture and elegance of the act of dancing. It baffles Kurt how the person who created this beautiful space to show his work could have no ability to transfer that beauty onto his canvas.

"Like what you see?"

Kurt has been so absorbed in his musings that ha hasn't even registered the middle aged couple moving away, leaving only the beautiful stranger now standing in front of him, watching his startled (and slightly drooling) expression with amusement. Kurt mentally berates himself, and schools his expression. No matter how hot the guy is, that is no reason to become inarticulate. Besides, he has someone waiting for him at home. Kurt is pretty sure that even though it isn't considered cheating, drooling over and ogling strangers at random art exhibits are considered questionable behavior unless you're single.

"No, I don't really," he says as last, going into full critic mode. "The colors look like they have been thrown on the canvas at complete random without any care for harmony. Not to mention the shapes and proportions. You'd think the painter know nothing about the basics of composition."

The stranger doesn't say anything at first, just observes Kurt with a slightly curious expression. At last he speaks.

"You don't assume that might have been the artist's intention?"

"Well, I would have to assume so. The exhibit is so expertly put together, and you can see that the technique is definitely superb. Though what possessed them to create this when the alternative was within their capabilities confuses me to no end."

"You're a critic aren't you?"

"No. Yes. Kind of."

"So, which is it?" The man asks with a laugh that is dangerously close to making Kurt swoon.

"Kind of. It's not as much what I am as what I aim to be one day when my boss decides to notice I'm capable of more than just getting her coffee and dry cleaning."

"Ouch, that sucks."

"Yeah."

Kurt lets the word hang there, not really sure how to proceed with the conversation. Just as the stretch of silence is approaching awkward, Kurt is saved by the shrill voice of Rachel yelling that they should go if they want to make it back to Manhattan in time for their brunch reservations.

"Your friend, I presume?"

"You presume correctly. Although, if she keeps dragging me to Brooklyn every Sunday at dawn, the cohabitation clause in our proverbial friendship contract might need changing."

As the man laughs, Kurt feels warmth spread through his entire body at the sound, and chastises himself. This is not proper behavior for someone in a committed relationship.

"Well, it was nice meeting you…" He lets the sentence hang as he realizes he doesn't know the stranger's name, and is supplied with 'Blaine' without any hesitation. "It was nice meeting you, Blaine." With that he waves (and really, he couldn't think of anything a little less lame than that?) and heads for the door where Rachel stands observing him and Blaine's interaction with curiosity. He doesn't get far before he is stopped in his track by Blaine catching his arm, sending electric currents soaring through his entire body at the touch. Forcing back his flustered expression he turns around to face him.

"Don't I get to know your name too?"

Kurt feels a completely inappropriate giddiness at knowing this cute man wants to know his name, but does his best to control the grin he's sure is threatening to break his face and answers.

"Of course. I'm Kurt."

Blaine gives a radiant smile and a squeeze to the hand Kurt first now realizes he's still holding.

"Nice to meet you too, Kurt."

Sending back a shy smile, Kurt turns back around, hiding his goofy grin and fast approaching blush and forces himself to not look back as he exits the loft. He doesn't even hear Rachel's plethora of questions, he's so lost in the feelings that touch and those eyes just awoke in him.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: So, I know it's been forever since I posted the first chapter of this story, and I don't really have an excuse. Truth is that I lost interest/lacked motivation in the story, and stopped writing. Yesterday I started reading through what I had written again and felt like I might actually find somewhere to go with it after all, so I'm tentatively continuing to post chapters. Fair warning though, I now have 7 chapters ready and written, and I do have some idea of where I want to take it, but since school is starting up and I'm in the middle of a big move at the moment, updates might take a while. _

_Also, I'll be posting over on my livejournal and S&C accounts too from now on, so feel free to read over there if you'd like. There are links on my profile. _

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**Chapter 2**

It takes the ten-or-so minute walk to the subway station for Kurt to return to reality and realize that, yeah, his life right now is the definition of complicated. Even if he was off the market, chances of him having something more than friendship with Blaine would be slim. Too preoccupied with his own woes, Kurt nearly misses it when Rachel mentions Blaine's name as they sit down on the Manhattan bound L train.

"What was that?"

"Hm? Oh, I was saying that I found it fascinating how the artist had chosen to enhance the imperfections in the photograph of the ballerina –"

"No, Rachel. Not that. You were talking about Blaine." Normally Kurt would try to refrain from rude interruptions, but something about today has made his normal self take a leave of absence. Rachel doesn't look offended though. Rather, she looks a little puzzled and somewhat amused.

"Yes, Kurt. Like I said, Blaine Anderson, the artist, has made some interesting choices."

"Wait, what? Blaine, that cute guy I just talked to, is the artist?" In the shock of hearing he basically just criticized the art to the artist himself, an artist Kurt finds downright gorgeous, it completely slips his mind the kind of ammunition he just handed Rachel. Sure enough, it takes her no time to catch on to the most pertinent adjective in his previous statement.

"Cute, huh?" she says in a mocking tone, a mischievous smile lurking on her lips. "You know he's gay too, right?"

"He is? How do you know?" The questions slip out before he can stop it, and although there really isn't any use in feigning disinterest at this point, he makes an attempt. "I mean, why would that matter?"

Rachel, as predicted, sees right through his charade and scoffs. "Nice try there, Kurt. Besides, even if you hadn't just made it obvious, your doe eyes and borderline drooling back at the loft would have made it clear." Damn that girl for always paying attention when it seems he's not, Kurt thinks. "And I know he's gay because I heard about the exhibit from his ex. You remember Zach, right?"

Kurt nods. Zach is one of the chorus members who work with Rachel in the Broadway production she's currently a part of. He is tall, blonde and gorgeous. There goes the last thread of hope, Kurt thinks. Not that there was much to begin with.

When he looks back at Rachel, her expression is serious, even slightly sad. "You have a crush on him, don't you?"

There's no use responding. Rachel knows him well enough to see through his evasions and lies, and confirming it will not change anything. The facts remain the same, so he just returns his gaze forwards and waits for Rachel to put in her two cents. Surprisingly enough, she sounds more pitying than anything when she finally speaks.

"Kurt, I'm sorry, but you know you can't, right?"

"I know."

"Even if Brad wasn't around, there's Sophia to take into consideration-"

"I know, Rachel!" Kurt just can't take listening to this anymore. He knows better than anyone how complicated his life is at the moment. It has been for years really. Still, he feels sorry for snapping at Rachel when she's only trying to be sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I just don't want to talk about this now, all right?"

Rachel understands immediately. It's one of the things that Kurt loves about her. It is hard to believe this woman sitting beside him on the subway is the same person as the self-centered diva he met in high school. Then again, he hardly recognizes himself anymore either, so what does he expect? They have both changed. Rachel for the better. Kurt- well, he's not quite sure yet.

Putting on a smile he stands up as the subway stops. "Ready for brunch?" Rachel smiles and takes his hand, and together they go to have their meal.

In the days following his and Rachel's trip to Brooklyn Kurt spends much of his spare time (which granted, isn't a whole lot what with his boss being even more difficult to deal with than usual due to a pending deadline) pondering Blaine Anderson's work. More accurately, he is obsessing about his own reaction to said work. As soon as they had gotten to brunch and started discussing what they'd seen, Kurt had admitted to Rachel that there was a lot more merit in the art than he at first let on. While it still wasn't something he would ever hang in his living room (ok, he might consider a few of the photographs, but the paintings were a definite no), he was intrigued by the idea behind them, and now wants nothing more than to pick his brains about what brought on the idea.

Which is why, as soon as Kurt arrives home after work the following Wednesday, he immediately sits down at his computer and starts writing. Not being able to do what he loves for a living yet does not stop him from pursuing his passion of writing. The blog he keeps is there just for moments like this one; when he feels like writing out his thoughts in order to make sense of them. Besides, Kurt figures, if it might help him get some recognition in the end, he can't exactly say he's opposed to that.

_This past weekend I did something no critic should ever do, and allowed my enjoyment of an art exhibition to be conditioned by my bad mood at having been dragged out of bed early by my very energetic roommate. To add insult to injury, I unknowingly made my contempt for the work known to the artist himself. In hindsight, I can't believe I wasn't met with a cold attitude at that, and the curiosity that was there instead is probably a big reason why I wasn't clued in until was on my way home and my roommate told me the man I'd been complaining too was indeed Blaine Anderson. _

_Therefore I think it's necessary that I start this post offering my sincerest apologies for my lack of tact in my meeting with the artist. Should he be reading this post, which is highly unlikely in and of itself, consider this a retraction of my initial statement. I have after a lot of contemplation (and let's be honest, incessant nagging from my roommate) realized that there is much more than meets the eye in Mr. Anderson's work, and while it might not be exactly what I would hang in my own apartment, it holds its own as art. In fact, the more I think about it the more I would like to pick his brain and learn what brought on this idea of his. _

He continues on writing in depth about a few of the works after declaring himself satisfied with the introduction-slash-apology. If he's lucky it will reach Blaine. If not, well…the chance of the two of them meeting again is slim, and Kurt doubts he made much of an impression on the artist either way. It surprises Kurt how much that thought disappoints him.

Just as Kurt finishes dotting his I's and crossing his t's and presses post on the blog post, his phone starts blasting off One Direction's 'What Makes You Beautiful', and he immediately smiles, knowing who is at the other end of that call. Looking over at the clock he sees that yes, right on time.

"Hey, Sophia!" he says, a big smile appearing on his face and washing away all the stress of the week. It's incredible how these weekly phone calls manage to do that like nothing else in his life.

"Daddy!" Sophia's voice on the other side of the line is so enthusiastic that he finds himself moving the phone away from his ear slightly, laughing at his daughter's enthusiasm.

"Hey, honey. How are you?"

Just like that Sophia launches into telling him everything she's been up to since they talked last week, while Kurt laughs and revels in the joy in the little girl's voice while he can. Too soon it becomes time to say goodbye, and it takes all of Kurt's strength to not start crying as his six-year-old lets him know it's time to go.

"Oh, mommy says I have to hang up now," she says, and despite the sorrow Kurt feels at this week's goodbye, he can't help feeling a little satisfied that Sophia sounds slightly petulant that her mom is making her hang up. However, he promised himself long ago that he wouldn't sink to that level. Even though her mother is unable to make such promises, he figures he should be the bigger person here.

"Ok, honey. Just remember, daddy loves you more than anything in the world. I can't wait for you to come visit in two weeks!"

"I love you too, daddy!"

As the line goes dead, Kurt feels tears start falling down his face.


End file.
